


C'est Louche

by Liadt



Category: Les Vampires (1915)
Genre: Humour, M/M, heroes they're a bit kinky if you ask me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: This was one of the hazards of being an investigative journalist and Philippe wasn't putting himself in harm's way for any other reason whatsoever, Mazamette told himself.





	

The masked man in the tight, black bodysuit grabbed Mazamette by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him against the wall of the room. Keeping one hand on Mazamette, the man groped along a table seeking to grab the small pistol that lay there. Mazamette whirled his arms frantically trying to break free. The back of his hand connected with a smooth patch on the rough, undressed stone of the wall. He drew his hand back down slowly. The smooth square sank into the wall and a trapdoor opened up in the floor right under the masked man. He dropped down with a cry, followed by a splash. The trapdoor slid shut as quickly as it had opened.

Mazamette slumped in relief, but it was only a momentary respite. He knew if he didn't hurry another gang member would appear to finish what the other had started. Mopping his brow, he pocketed the gun and went over to a blindfolded man tied to a chair. The man was Philippe, his friend and the enemy of all the nefarious criminal gangs of Paris. He took Philippe's blindfold off. 

Philippe blinked in the light and beamed up at him. “Mazamette, you have rescued me again.”

“Yes and I notice, not for the first time, you are always happy no matter what.”

“That is because I know you’ll save me in the nick of time.”

“You are too confident in my abilities,” said Mazamette and went to untie Philippe's wrists. He accidentally pulled the ropes tighter making Philippe gasp. “I'm sorry, I'll try not to hurt you again.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for. Do continue.”

Mazamette furrowed his brow. There was something in Philippe's voice. Did he … could he ... enjoy this? No, he couldn't, could he? But he did have an unfortunate habit of getting regularly kidnapped. This was one of the hazards of being an investigative journalist and Philippe wasn't putting himself in harm's way for any other reason whatsoever, Mazamette told himself. However, a small part of his brain refused to listen. 

Ropes untied, Mazamette helped Philippe to his feet.

“I fear the circulation has gone from my wrists,” complained Philippe, with a wince.

Ever helpful, Mazamette rubbed Philippe's sore wrists without thinking.

“You are a true friend,” said Philippe, sounding pleased once more. “I shall take you out for a slap up meal tonight.”

“You will?” Having been poor, Mazamette couldn’t resist indulging in life's luxuries big or small.

“And I’ll buy the drinks too.”

Mazamette paused in his ministrations, but kept his hold on Philippe's hands. “Ah, now you are the true friend.”

****

Suitably attired for dinner, Mazamette met Philippe in the street outside his apartment. Embracing Philippe warmly, Mazamette addressed the pressing issue of the day.

“Where are we going to eat? I'm famished.”

“At L'arbre du Laurier.”

“Isn't it popular with American tourists?” In Mazamette's experience American tourists were a favoured target for murderous thieves. He wondered why they still flocked to Paris - hadn't they heard of the dangers?

“Is it? I wasn’t aware of that,” said Philippe, breezily. “I have booked us a table outside on the terrace.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer inside?”

“Safer? You know all too well four walls is no guarantee of protection. It's safer outside; there's no chance of asphyxiation by poison gas.”

And there would be no point in tying anyone up if they were out cold, though Mazamette. And if a gang did strike and Philippe was captured, he would have to free him again and this time if he pulled the ropes too tightly he might have to rub something else of Philippe’s, like his ankles, for instance. He put his arm through Philippe's and gave it a squeeze. Philippe smiled back. 

“Lead on to the restaurant, my friend,” said Mazamette, flinging his free arm out. With his friend by his side, the night held no terrors for him.


End file.
